


A Pirate's Life For Me

by KarsKars



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Blood and Violence, F/M, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Orphan Keith (Voltron), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pirate Keith (Voltron), Pirate Lance (Voltron), Rum
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:48:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26374486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KarsKars/pseuds/KarsKars
Summary: From a prompt on DWDK: "klance pirates with mutiny and power play and backstabbing as they fight against an overbearing government and there are pirates that are paid by the government to kill the wild pirates and klance have to navigate this world as they fall in love"TRIGGER WARNING: Graphic depictions of violence, minor character deaths
Relationships: Keith's Father/Krolia (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 29





	1. Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SailUnchartedWaters (SailUncharted)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailUncharted/gifts), [Autumn_Ignited](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Autumn_Ignited/gifts).



It was a calm night at sea; the ocean still, rippling waves unbroken. Above them the moonless sky blanketed the ship’s bow in darkness, hiding the wooden deck from view. Alone on the bridge, Krolia stood at the helm staring up at the twinkling stars. Without the pollution of a hundred oil lamps illuminating the harbour or bustling city streets, the full splendor of the heavens could be seen; so vivid this far out. 

As beautiful as it all was, nights like these made Krolia uncomfortable. Calm waves might fail to announce approaching ships and the lack of a strong wind would make any escape difficult. Her Majesty’s forces had been increasing steadily as of late and the Crown’s fleets were a near constant presence the closer one ventured to port. But out this far, with not a spec of land to be seen for days, out in the middle of the open water, they were safe.

A strong hand grasped her shoulder, giving a tight squeeze and sending warmth rolling across her back and down her arm. It was a comforting feeling, grounding in its security and affection. She didn’t even need to turn her head to know who it was and she rested her cool cheek against her husband’s rough hand; calloused from years of hard work and harsh sea water. 

“He’s stirrin’ again.” He whispered quietly into her ear, placing a soft kiss in the tender dip of her neck. Krolia hummed in understanding and resigned herself to stepping out of his warm embrace as she switched from fearless First Mate to soothing mother. 

The door creaked loudly as she slid it open, spilling a sliver of golden light from her lamp into the small cabin. “Mommy?” A tiny voice sniffled from somewhere in the dark. Pulling the oil lamp above her head Krolia watched as the flickering light chased away the shadows from his face.

“Shhh it’s okay, Keith. Mommy’s here.” She soothed, making her way over to his bed and taking a seat at the edge. Immediately the young boy crawled up into her lap, wrapping his little arms around her waist, and clinging tightly to the back of her shirt. She rubbed soothing circles and rocked him back and forth as she hummed a tune her mother had once sang to her. Slowly his eyes began to close once again and before long his breathing had evened out. She lay him back down, pulled the blankets up to tuck him in, and placed a light kiss to his forehead before heading back to the bridge. 

An unsettling feeling prickled at the back of her mind as she stared out at the strange cloud formation looming on the horizon. With no moonlight to assist, it was hard to discern what the odd shape could be. It could be nothing, a trick of the horizon meeting an oddly shaped cloud. It could be a rival pirate crew, sailing by them towards the nearest port. It could be a ship from Her Majesty’s fleet, approaching in a vain attempt to intercept them and commandeer their ship. Or it could be a commissioned vessel of bounty hunters and pirate chasers sent by Her Majesty to capture and take prisoner those deemed “undesirable”. 

Honestly the latter would be the worst case scenario. A ship unencumbered by the laws of the crown, free to pillage or murder as they see fit, all while flying the royal flags; safe from the very gallows to which they condemn their fellow pirates. 

Krolia closed the bridge door behind her, walking across the small room to stand behind her husband. She wrapped her arms around his waist, bringing them to rest against his strong chest as she pressed herself against his back. She let out a hum as she kissed between his shoulder blades.

“Where were we?” Keeping her voice low she kissed her way across his broad shoulders and slid her hands lower though he didn’t react. Krolia paused in her ministrations, leaving a final kiss to his upper arm as she removed herself from his person. “Everything alright?” She asked, stepping around him and finding her answer.

Everything was most certainly  _ not _ alright. His frame had been propped up against the wheel of the ship, one of the spokes having been bent at an angle and now penetrating into his lower abdomen. It held him firmly in place as the blood streamed down his leg and ran off with the slope of the ship, unable to pool below him. Krolia gasped in horror, her hands flying to cover her mouth from the unbelievable sight before her. His body had still been warm, warm enough that she hadn’t even noticed something was amiss. Whoever had done this, they must still be on the ship. 

_ KEITH!! _

She tore her way back down the narrow passages of the cabins. Her mind was running a mile a minute but she didn't have the luxury of time and she couldn't allow herself to panic. Later, later when she and Keith were safely rowing away on a lifeboat, then and only then would she take the time to process what she couldn’t begin to believe. 

She rounded a corner and found the body of their cook splayed across the aisle with his own knives protruding from his back. Krolia stepped over him, careful to avoid the slippery patch of blood, but otherwise paid him no mind as she continued on her way. She became more desperate with each fallen crew member she came across until she arrived back at that familiar door only to find it ajar. 

Her heart plummeted to the depths of the ocean at the sight of his empty bed. “Keith?” She whispered into the dark room, desperately praying he’d hidden himself. “Keith, it’s mommy!” She called again, adding a pleading “Please baby, answer me!” on the third time. At the lack of response she felt the crushing loss threaten to drop her to her knees. 

What had happened here? Her crew members lay dead in the halls, her husband’s body propped up for show on the bridge, and her innocent son taken from his bed. Who could have done this? Who could have been so quiet that not a soul put up a fight? She just didn’t know. But one thing she  _ did _ know was that sitting here, kneeling in front of her son’s cabin as she fell apart would solve nothing. It wouldn’t bring him back, it wouldn’t find his captors, and it wouldn’t do either of them any good. 

Krolia took a deep breath and pushed herself to her feet. She was the highest skilled member of this crew, spending decades fighting men twice her size as their equal. Now was the time for action, now was the time to show these sons of bitches the terrible mistake they made by coming onto this ship. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned? Oh, Krolia was going to unleash more than hell had to offer. 

She crossed the threshold into the small room taking the duo swords off the wall from where they hung. Rage boiled her blood as she stepped out of the cabin, stalking her way through the halls she had just travelled, narrowing her version and numbing her pain. Krolia’s breath was coming in deep and calm, her mission giving her focus as she watched the shadows dance around corners, listened to the hushed voices of their intruders, and calculated her best course of action. Her husband may have been a hot head but she’d always remained cool under pressure and this clarity allowed her to outperform her opponents. 

She slid around the final corner, listening intently to the voices trickling down the hall. They were on the main deck now, loading up their small boats with the loot taken from the hull of her ship. 

“Krolia.” A familiar voice whispered from behind her and she whipped her head around to find herself face to face with her Captain. He placed a finger to his lips, beckoning her not to respond, and she gave a curt nod of understanding. The halls were dark but his face was dusted with light from the oil lamps hanging along the walls. As she looked she noticed more of their crew had gathered behind him, ready to follow his commands and defend their vessel. 

“At my signal.” He said and she nodded once again, waiting for his next order as her grip tightened painfully on the handles of her blades. Kolivan turned to speak with the men behind him and his voice was lost to the night once more. She kept a watchful eye on the shadows dancing along the wall across from her, seeing them lift box after box into their boats, and over hearing the occasional command being called.

When one of the shadows grew steadily larger she turned to warn the others before sliding into a nook to hide. With Kolivan’s orders in mind Krolia waited for her first target to pass by and, silent as the night itself, she sprang from her position and slit his throat. Catching the body, she slowly lowered him to the floor, avoiding any loud noises that could alert the rest of his crew. Kolivan and the others would attack once she had taken out the scouts. It was her job to ensure they met as little resistance as possible. 

She rounded the corner and slit the throats of two guards simultaneously, resting their bodies against one another, then creeping along the edges of the ship. She stuck to the shadows, using her slight frame to stay hidden as she made her way closer to the boats. Another watchman stood in her way and Krolia wrapped her hand around his mouth as she drove one of her swords into the curve of his lower back, giving it a twist to ensure his demise. Her sharp blade met no resistance from his spine and she quickly moved on to the next obstacle. 

It didn’t take long before she had reached the place where they’d docked. She could see the royal flag flying in the distance but these men were no soldiers. She had been right, her worst fears realized as she stared at the insignia carved into the small boats. Pirates who flew the Crown’s flag. The rest of the crew be damned, she needed to find Keith before it was too late.

* * *

~ 15 Years Later ~

He sat up in bed abruptly, gasping for air as the flames faded from his vision.  _ It was only a dream. _ He told himself for the thousandth time, maybe one day he could believe it.

A body shifted beside him and Keith winced as he realized he’d woken him up. “Sorry” he whispered into the dark and received a mumbled, incoherent response as a hand grabbed at his shirt and pulled him down.

“Youalright?” his bed partner slurred. “Youhaveabaddream?” Keith nodded in return, his head rubbing against the other’s shoulder and the young man patted his chest with an affirmative “good” before immediately falling back asleep. 

Though he’d be loath to admit it, nights like these made Keith glad that Lance sometimes fell asleep before leaving his bed. Sure it caused the rest of the crew to whisper about them and they may have their suspicions but, unless Keith or Lance caused any real trouble, no one would bother raising a fuss. That was the whole appeal of becoming pirates in the first place. Or at least, the most rewarding part of it. Sure there were other aspects that Keith loved, such as all the treasure and the general lack of consequences when he got frustrated and fell back on his old “stab first, ask questions later” habit. But mostly Keith appreciated the freedom to just exist, a luxury he never had in the navy. 

The Crown didn’t just frown upon his “lifestyle” like the pirates, instead it was deemed an “undesirable trait” and was punishable by death. And, while he was fully aware that being a pirate was a one way ticket to the gallows, he’d rather be hung for murder or theft rather than choosing to fall in love with the wrong person.

And yeah, he’d gone and fallen in love with his idiot friend. It had been several months already since the two of them had consumed far too much rum and decided to embark on a friends with benefits arrangement. One that had seemed like a great idea at the time. That is, until Keith realized that Lance was not only incredibly hot but also a really great kisser and the best big spoon he’d ever come across. He was kind and sweet and gentle and loving and not at all meant to be a pirate. He should be showing off at some royal ball, wowing the ladies with his striking blue eyes and easy charm. Not slumming it with Keith in a dirty cabin wearing clothes they’d quite literally taken off a dead man. 

Unlike Keith, Lance hadn’t chosen to become a pirate. He’d been taken from his family home back in Cuba during a raid several years back. The pirates that took him had intended to sell the young boy off into slavery but were raided by the Galra ships instead. The crew had all been executed by the vicious and unforgiving pirates, but the captives had been set adrift in a lifeboat with a small amount of supplies. Lance was one of three who survived living in the boat long enough to be pulled from the sea by this crew. He’d been a part of their merry band ever since. 

“Keith, dude. Go the fuck to sleep.” Lance murmured into his pillow with a half hearted swat at the older boy. Keith chuckled and rolled over, feeling a warm body press against his own and relaxing into the comfort it provided. He should probably tell Lance how he felt, and someday he would - just, not yet.

Slowly, the darkness claimed him once more and, with strong arms grounding him, Keith was able to avoid the fire depths of his own memories.


	2. Quartermaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You are Quartermaster, Keith. You have a duty to uphold.”
> 
> Groaning loudly and rolling his eyes once again, Keith kicked off from the door frame he’d been leaning against, moving to stand closer to Shiro’s desk. “What duty? This is a pirate ship, Shiro, not your oh-so-noble Empire. I owe these people nothing, they owe me nothing, I have no duty to them aside from those of my post. I do my job, if they don’t like it … or me, they can replace me as Quartermaster.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday Sail!
> 
> Thank you to my beta! Much appreciated friend xo

Krolia wrapped the last strand of fabric, tucking it tightly into the previous layers. A heavy cannon ball had been placed between the feet of their former crewmates, ensuring they reached their final resting place on the seafloor. The other bodies were lined in a neat row along the railing of the ship’s port side deck, head at the sea and feet facing inward. She knew his body would be added to the rest when she was finished, still, she took her time. 

Her hand rested shakily on the stained linens. The crew’s doctor, surgeon, and mortician had tried his best to clean up the bodies but even an expert like Ulaz couldn’t prevent the blood from soaking through. 

A single tear slid down her cheek as she clutched tightly to the lump on his abdomen where cold hands had been lovingly placed, clasped together around the wooden sculpture of an exotic creature from Africa. She smiled fondly at the memories as she gently rested her own hands above his, hidden away under the wrappings. He’d nicked it from a wood carver in Egypt back when Keith had been no older than a few months. The tiny baby didn’t even have the grip strength to hold it, yet he would squeal in delight when his father danced the wooden creature around. 

She took a deep breath and leaned in to place a soft kiss against his cold cheek. Keith was too young, he most likely wouldn’t remember his father at all. But she’d be damned if she let the boy forget either of them. 

“I’ll get him back,” she whispered to him, “and I’ll make every last one of them pay for this. For what they’ve taken from me.” She stroked the side of his face again, listening to the boots of her crew as they cautiously approached from behind. “Mark my words, I will hunt every last one of them down, I will make them  _ beg  _ the crown for the gallows. The name  _ ‘Marmora’ _ will strike fear in the hearts of pirates for decades to come.” 

Slowly, steadily, she rose to her feet. The air seemed to shift around them, turning colder as it whipped through her hair, sending sprays of seawater over the edges of the deck, coating them all in a fine salty mist. Thunder rumbled in the distance but it paled in comparison to the lightning flashing in Krolia’s eyes. She turned away, leaving her husband’s side and steeling her emotions. Gone was the mourning window; securely locked away in a dark corner of her heart, only allowed to surface in the privacy of her now empty quarters.

Instead, a wrathful, vengeful, and furious mother walked to her Captain’s side. Crew members scrambled out of her way clearing a path that she steadily marched, leaving an unsettling nervousness in her wake. 

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Kolivan said as she decidedly closed the door behind her. “He will not soon be forgotten.”

Krolia didn’t speak, not right away at least, his words didn’t warrant an immediate response. Instead she crossed the open space to press her palms against the warm wood of the Captain’s desk, leaning well across the surface to stare him in the eyes.

“I lost my husband tonight, but I refuse to lose my son.”

“We cannot follow them. They’ve headed for the mainland, it would be suicide.”

“Then give me a small boat and I’ll row after them myself if I have to!”

“Krolia, think rationally. We are too far from land for you to row yourself to shore, and even if you made it, who’s to say you won’t be caught and hung before finding him? Who’s to say they haven’t already -”

“Don’t you dare!” she snapped. “Keith is alive.”

“Krolia -”

“No. He’s alive Kolivan, I can feel it. Call it mother’s intuition or blind determination, I don't care - but I refuse to believe anything else.”

* * *

~~~~~

* * *

“Keeeeiiiiiitthhhh!!!” Lance whined, his voice muffled slightly by the closed door. “Hurry up, _ me estoy muriendo de hambre!” _

“Would you give me, like, five minutes? Please!” His patience was wearing thin, there was only so much whining he could take, but Keith picked up the pace anyway. He quickly buttoned his shirt, slid the straps supporting his pants over his shoulders, and laced up his boots. He splashed a little cold water over his face, scrubbing away as much of the grime as possible, and threw on his jacket. Grabbing his hat from the rack, he offered Lance a scowl when he finally walked out the door and the other shoved past him.

In the pocket of his jacket were the fingerless gloves he’d grown accustomed to wearing. They served several purposes including protecting his palms from the wood all around them, keeping his hands warm on cold damp nights, and improving his grip on his sword handle. But most importantly, they hid the brand seared onto the back of his left hand. It marked him as an undesirable, a troublemaker, a criminal and thug, an orphan, and worst of all: unchristened. 

He hadn’t been branded a pirate, not yet. But his history and record were definitely against him. Any one who saw the mark would know he was not to be associated with. Hell, even some of his own crew regarded him with scepticism due to his clearly not British ancestry and the fact he had never been baptized. Not that it mattered to Keith, as far as he was concerned they were all headed to the same place for the amount of shit they’d stolen and blood they’d shed. 

He slipped his gloves over his hands and looked up when he heard Lance shut the door behind him.

“About time” he muttered with a sly grin, earning himself an eye roll and a stuck-out tongue. Keith chuckled and darted his eyes around the seemingly empty hall before leaning in for a chaste kiss. Keith let their lips slot together and moved his arms to wrap around Lance’s neck as strong tanned hands came to rest on his waist. Moments like this had to be stolen, most of the crew turned a blind eye to what they didn’t see, but neither wanted to risk openly declaring their … whatever this was.

“I thought you were starving,” Keith smirked when they separated for a breath, Lance chasing after his retreating lips.

“I am,” Lance replied evenly but his seductive expression did not match his tone, “absolutely famished,  _ avaricioso _ , and you’re a snack I intend to devour.” 

That was … “Holy shit, Lance” Keith breathed, immediately diving back in, suddenly hungrier than ever.

Lance giggled as his face was swallowed whole, Keith’s hands moving to grasp tightly at either side of his jaw, holding his head securely in place. He pressed himself closer to Lance’s form, their bodies fitting together perfectly, and rolled his hips against him eliciting a low hum that transferred straight from Lance’s mouth into his through their kiss. 

‘ _ Ahem _ ’ a throat cleared behind them and the two instantly threw themselves apart, though the evidence of their closeness was hard to ignore. “Quartermaster, the Captain wishes to speak to you in his office when you … have a moment.” 

The ship’s cook looked incredibly uncomfortable, but Keith was thankful it had been him to stumble upon them and not some of the others onboard. “Uh, okay,” he said, clearing his throat, “thanks, Hunk.”

The very uncomfortable cook nodded, looked between them, nodded again, then turned to leave.

* * *

Captain Shirogane’s office was at the rear of the ship and thus required Keith to travel past nearly the entire crew on his way there. Luckily his little  _ situation _ had been expertly taken care of before he started his march.

“Took you longer than expected,” his Captain commented as Keith shut the door behind him, stepping into the office and walking over to the large wooden desk.

“What did you want?” Keith asked, jumping straight to the point, he never did understand the need for small talk.

“Alright,” Shiro said, choosing to let it go, “I’ve received word from the crow’s nest that an Empire ship is this-side of the horizon.” Keith nodded in understanding as Shiro continued, “We need to ready the Blood Lion for contact and prepare for the chance the ship might be rogue.”

“I’ll check our stock levels but I’m pretty sure we’re running low on projectiles.”

Shiro nodded back. “The next time we go to port we’ll need to stock up on more cannonballs. Check the reserves to see how many coins we have on hand.”

Keith stared at him, dumbfounded. Pirate ships were surprisingly diplomatic and leadership was typically voted into their positions. Roles such as Captain and Quartermaster were the highest ranked on the ship, earning slightly higher percentages of captured treasure, but were often put under harsh scrutiny. Weakness wasn’t tolerated on a Pirate ship.

Shiro had won the vote for Captain by being strong and trustworthy and fair, even in the world of pirates, though moments like this showed just how  _ unpirate-like _ he really was. Pay for ammunition? PAY _? Come on, Shiro!  _ Keith thought to himself, mental facepalming at his incredibly  _ too _ honourable captain. 

“Or, you know, we could just take theirs,” Keith responded, pointing his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the nearby Empire ship. 

“Right. Yes. Let’s do that.” Shiro answered and Keith rolled his eyes and shook his head, smirking fondly at him nonetheless. “Ready the crew and give the instructions to take enough ammunition to refill our stocks, as well as any provisions and treasure the ship is carrying. We should be making contact tomorrow around mid afternoon.”

Keith nodded in understanding and turned to go, stopping with his hand on the door only when he heard his name called from behind him. Though Shiro’s voice was quiet, it was no less commanding. 

“Keith, there have been rumours around the ship that, well honestly, I don’t think I can silence anymore.”

_ Shit _ , they really should have been more careful. Removing his hand from the knob with a heavy sigh, Keith turned back to face Shiro. “And?” he replied, arms crossing over his chest.

“And, I think you and Lance need to address them.”

“Oh, yeah, great idea, Shiro. We’ll do just that.” He sarcastically replied, rolling his eyes dramatically. 

“You are Quartermaster, Keith. You have a duty to uphold.”

Groaning loudly and rolling his eyes once again, Keith kicked off from the door frame he’d been leaning against, moving to stand closer to Shiro’s desk. “What duty? This is a pirate ship, Shiro, not your  _ oh-so-noble _ Empire. I owe these people nothing, they owe me nothing, I have no duty to them aside from those of my post. I do my job, if they don’t like it … or me, they can replace me as Quartermaster.”

Keith let his words sink in for a second or two before he pressed his hands to the wood and leaned across the desk, setting his face inches away from his Captains. “Though my replacement may not be as patient with you, may not cover your tracks and modify your orders accordingly.” He watched the realisation settle in and a grim expression took over Shiro’s face.

“Don’t threaten me, Keith,” he replied, voice low between them. 

“I’m not,” he answered simply and honestly, “I’m merely pointing out some facts. That’s my job as Quartermaster isn’t it? To keep track of this stuff, to punish the rule breakers?” Keith leaned back, moving out of Shiro’s personal space and continued, “I’m threatening you, not at all. I’m simply warning you to have my back ‘cause if I’m replaced, whoever takes up this mantle won’t understand you like I do. They won’t see your compassion and honour as strengths. We’re pirates, YOU’RE a pirate. Now start acting like one.  _ Captain!” _

Shiro’s face was pale, but Keith had said what needed to be said. His friend needed to know the situation he was in, just how tentative his grasp on power really was. On a pirate ship the Captain could be replaced at any time (unless they were in active battle) and Shiro needed to know that any sign of weakness,  _ any at all, _ would be grounds for his removal. Keith had protected him thus far, made him seem more ruthless than he really was, but without Keith as his right hand man the truth was bound to come out.

Shiro nodded in understanding. “They’re terrified of you, you know. You have quite the reputation.” Keith shrugged at his words, a faint pull of pride tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I think honesty is the best solution, I really do. If this was the Empire I would  _ never _ suggest it but, it’s different here. I think you’ve earned the crew’s respect enough that you should be honest.”

“And I think you’re wrong,” Keith paused a moment, it  _ would _ be nice not to have to hide his feelings any more, to allow himself more than just stolen moments with Lance. “But I’ll think about it,” he finished, earning a beaming smile from his Captain.

* * *

Keith rang the bell, alerting the crew that there was an announcement from the Captain, and waited for everyone to quiet down before beginning. 

“Captain Shirogane has given new orders. Our munitions are running low and our supplies are depleted so we will ready the ship to engage with the Empire vessel on the horizon.” He stared out over the crewmembers and pointed to a group standing off to the right, “Set barrels to drag, we want to appear as heavy and slow as possible while our sails remain full.” He then moved his gaze to the next group, “Gather the empty supply bins and move them to the deck, make the ship look like we’re full and heading for port.” He then singled out the final group of crew members, “Drape the painted tarps over the sides and cover the cannons. The fewer guns we appear to have the less likely they are to suspect we’re pirates until it’s too late … for them of course,” he added with a smirk, earning himself a laugh from the crew.

Everyone set to work. The crew members scattered across the ship, rushing to disguise themselves as a full, slow, Empire vessel while Keith himself went to take stock of their remaining ammunition. Just like he feared, it really wasn’t much.

They were sorely lacking in round shots, chain and bar shots, grape shots, sangrenel, and gunpowder. Essentially they had practically nothing left in their stores.  _ Shit. _ He thought as he looked over the practically empty storage room. He really hoped the other ship surrendered because they wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight. 

Not wanting the crew to know the situation, Keith squared his shoulders and marched to Shiro’s office. He knocked once as he opened the door and just stepped straight inside.

“Uh, hey Keith, come on in,” Shiro joked, smiling at him in his ignorance of the situation. 

“It’s worse than I thought,” Keith answered bluntly, once again not bothering with small talk. “We’re down to practically nothing, Shiro.”

“What do you suggest?”

“We need to get close,  _ really _ close. Close enough to throw a plank across the railings in order to avoid cannon fire … cause we can’t return it. 

“How do we do that without raising suspicions?” he mused to himself, turning from Keith to stare out the window overlooking the vast ocean behind the ship. 

The Captain’s office sat at the very back of the ship, boasting large windows that let in lots of natural light and allowed him to keep an eye on their tail, watching for any ships that followed them or approached suspiciously fast. 

“Okay,” Shiro finally spoke up, “We fly a distress flag, replace some sails with torn ones, and bring the empty cargo bins back below deck. Make it look like we got hit and need assistance. That should let us get close enough.”

_ That could work. _ Keith thought, nodding in agreement and leaving the Captain's office to deliver the updated orders. 

* * *

Lance was sitting at a large table in the mess deck drinking a mug of ale when Keith entered. Around him were several of the crew members, heads thrown back mid laugh as Lance animatedly retold a story, his natural charisma holding his audience captive. Keith smiled softly at him, watching his long arms flaily rapidly around his head as the bellows of laughter echoed once again.

When Lance’s story concluded, Keith walked across the large room and took the seat next to him. He didn’t miss the silence, or the eyes that turned to watch them, but instead Keith chose to ignore their stares. He smiled at Lance, reaching over to take his mug and earning a gasp of offended surprise.

“You’re cut off.” he responded, throwing back the remainder of the contents and slamming the empty mug down on the wooden table. 

“Who gave you the right?” Lance questioned, indignant tone and sour expression fully directed at Keith. Keith merely shrugged in response.

“The crew,” he said bluntly, “when they voted me Quartermaster.” Lance scoffed at him and fully pouted as he turned to the other men for support.

Keith watched their faces as they took in the exchange, he knew what they were thinking and he knew this was his chance to remind them of  _ why _ he had been chosen for this post. “Don’t look for any backup,” he added calmly, gaze aimed at the empty mug in his hand as he balanced it on the table. “It’s the Quartermaster’s job to dole out punishments and I don’t take kindly to mutinous actions, no matter the scale.” He kept his voice level, carefully controlled, and looked back up to stare the table down, Lance included. 

“Big day tomorrow,” Keith added after a beat, “hopefully we’ll all sail away much richer men. Get some sleep.” With that he squeezed Lance’s thigh under the table and rose to his feet, walking out of the room and returning to his own; Lance not far behind.


End file.
